


Snips and Snails and Bunny Rabbit Tails

by sarahnotduck (singforabsolution)



Series: Something Sacred [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Age Play, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Gen, Non-Sexual Age Play, Uncle!Phil, You know what I mean, little!Clint, little!Natasha, mommy!maria
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 08:07:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4297104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/singforabsolution/pseuds/sarahnotduck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Sometimes being ‘little’ was exactly like really being little; grown-ups always liked the cute kids best.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>22 year old Clint attends his first littles munch where he meets Natasha and her uncle Phil. Luckily for Clint, Phil thinks he's pretty gosh-darn adorable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snips and Snails and Bunny Rabbit Tails

**Author's Note:**

> A big thank you to LittleGirlLostExplores for betaing. Is that even a word? See what happens when you're not around?! :P
> 
> This is my first Avengers fic and I haven't written at all for two years so I apologise if it's not my best work.

Cafe Marigold was busy at this time of day, but Clint was grateful for the anonymity that only a crowd of hungry New Yorkers could provide. He navigated his way through the bustle of the main dining area to the function room at the back of the cafe with more outward resolve than he felt. The adrenaline was all that kept him placing one foot in front of the other by this point, and if he let himself stop and think about where he was going, he would surely back out yet again. In fairness, this was the furthest he’d ever gotten. His previous two attempts had ended in spectacular failure with him joining the end of the queue at the coffee and pastry counter.

The door to the function room had a My Little Pony tote bag hanging from the handle just as the website had promised so there was no doubt he was in the right place. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Clint turned the handle and entered the function room.

His entrance went unnoticed (which he was grateful for) and he took a moment to try and orient himself with what was going on around him. It was somewhat reminiscent of his first day of kindergarten. Everyone else seemed to be busy eating or talking, although admittedly the coloring table was working in what could only be described as intense silence but the table was full so he couldn’t hideout there. Clint reached into his pocket and took out his beloved long-eared bunny rabbit, rubbing it against his cheek to ground himself. Attending his first littles munch* was proving to be a little overwhelming. Oddly, the part he had thought he would struggle with most was getting into his little headspace in a room full of strangers but his anxiety had actually pushed him further into it than he had imagined getting.. It was taking a lot of effort to refrain from bursting into tears and so he concentrated really hard on trying to see how many cartoon characters he could name from various different types of merchandise the other littles had brought along with them.

A little boy walked past with his daddy carrying plates loaded with food. The string cheese and teddybear shaped sandwiches spoke to Clint and so he decided maybe the buffet table was worth a look because his bunny, Tiptoe, really liked sandwiches. Clint joined the queue behind a little girl in a pinafore dress with pretty red hair and a man he assumed was her daddy. He was about to pick up a plate (for Tiptoe of course) when Clint realised the little girl had turned around and was staring at him.

“What’s that?” She asked, narrowing her eyes at Tiptoe in a somewhat predatory manner.

Clint’s hand paused mid-air above the stack of plates before dropping back down to his side. He pretended to be inordinately interested in the cheese and pineapple hedgehog in the hope that she might just get bored and leave him alone. She was pretty and it did something unpleasant to his stomach. He couldn’t say what or why but it gave him a vague sense of feeling ‘bad’. Sometimes being ‘little’ was exactly like really being little; grown-ups always liked the cute kids best. He brushed his thumb over Tiptoe’s paw, concentrating on the feel of the soft fur.

"Where's your mommy? Or your daddy?" The girl took a step closer to Clint, clearly not losing interest in him or picking up on the cues that he didn’t want to talk.

No sooner had Clint opened his mouth to say he didn't have one than she triumphantly plucked the bunny from his grasp and dangled it by its ear in front of him. "Who's that?"

Tears welled in Clint’s eyes once again and he wished the ground would swallow him up. This had been a mistake and he wouldn’t come again. He didn't know why he'd even talked himself into coming in the first place  because nobody came to these things alone, everyone else had a caretaker or a friend with them and only losers like him came with nothing but a bunny for company. As soon as he’d gotten Tiptoe back he’d head home and build a blanket fort to hide in for the rest of the day.

"G-give Tiptoe back please," Clint managed quietly but it was barely audible above the chatter that surrounded them on all sides.

The man in the suit, the girl’s probably daddy, must have heard because he turned around and he looked kind of embarrassed. “Natasha! Give that back this instant. What would your mommy say?”

Natasha looked to the floor, biting her lip anxiously. She really hoped mommy wouldn't find out and she hadn't meant to be mean, she was just curious and social interaction had never been her strong suit. "I'm sorry, Uncle Phil."

“Good girl,” he told her. “Now give the little boy his toy back and tell him you’re sorry too.”

“Sorry, little boy." She handed Tiptoe back and Clint pressed the little white rabbit to his cheek as if reassuring himself it was really there.

Phil didn’t recall ever having seen the boy with the bunny here before and certainly not wearing that vintage Captain America t-shirt because he would have noticed that for sure. His heart went out to the little boy who he was either very little or very shy. Either way it couldn’t have been very nice for him to be there all alone.

“What’s your name, son?”

Clint shifted from one foot to the other anxiously and stared down at his sneakers as he muttered, “Clint.”

“Well it’s nice to meet you, Clint. I’m Phil and this is Tasha,” he gestured to the redhead. “ Why don’t you join us for lunch?”

“Uh…” Clint wasn’t sure. The man, Phil, he seemed nice. Like, really nice and Tasha had said sorry for taking Tiptoe but surely they didn’t really want him there getting in the way.

The decision was made on Clint’s behalf by Tasha's excited, "Yes! Sit with us, we can color!" She grabbed Clint's hand and whisked him off towards their table, her eyes wild with delight.

Phil tried his best to stifle his smile as he watched his niece take off with her new best friend. They’d be good for eachother, he thought. Tasha would hopefully draw Clint out of his shell enough for him to have a little fun and maybe Tasha would benefit from having someone more her own ‘age’ to talk to.

“Stay where I can see you both,” he called after them.

Phil watched as Tasha dug out a pack of crayons from her backpack and shared them out into two piles. Satisfied that things were going smoothly, he went back to his initial task of filling a plate with food for Tasha.

The pair were coloring happily when Phil returned to the table, setting a plate in front of Tasha and another in front of Clint. He had debated whether or not it was his place to do so because he wasn’t Clint’s uncle after all and it seemed a little presumptuous but the little boy was here all alone and had he _really_ been a child Phil wouldn’t have hesitated.

“Thanks, Uncle Phil,” Tasha put down her crayon and began to eat her lunch. Starting with a cupcake but Phil didn’t interfere. It was a special occasion after all.

“You’re welcome, princess.”

Clint looked up as the paper plate appeared in front of him, slightly puzzled at first before it dawned on him that the food was his or rather, Tiptoe’s. “Thank you,” he smiled up at Phil shyly before turning his attention to the bunny and offering him the sandwich. Tiptoe wasn’t hungry though so Clint broke the corner of the sandwich off (or rather the teddybear’s ear) and sat it in front of the bunny while Clint nibbled on the rest himself.

“You're welcome, champ.” Phil felt a flutter of affection for the boy in his chest and he very much hoped that he would became a regular at the littles munch. “I’m going to go and get you both some juice, okay?”

Tasha and Clint nodded their understanding so Phil made his way back over to the buffet table to pour two cups of orange juice for them. For the most part, he was content to be an uncle. The long hours he worked kept him busy and also made it impractical for him to be anyone’s daddy again but it didn’t make him immune from feeling broody.  He was so lost in his own thoughts that the hand on his shoulder came as a complete surprise and he almost spilt the cup he was filling.

“Hi, Maria.” Phil kissed the brunette on the cheek by way of greeting. He was about to ask how things were going at the office because she looked a little frazzled but his enquiry was preempted by Tahsa squeezing herself in between them. She must have seen Maria arrive.

“Mommy! Did you miss me?”

Maria beamed, all the tension in her posture melting away as she opened her arms to envelop Tasha. “Of course, Princess. I always miss you.”

Natasha was so excited to see her mommy she had temporarily forgotten about both juice and her new friend. She began babbling about a little girl she’d seen wearing the exact same dress that she wanted for Christmas so could mommy _please ask the little girl’s mommy or daddy or aunt or uncle where it came from because Santa might need directions to the store_.

Maria shot Phil a helpless look over her shoulder as she was led away on a hunt for the little girl in the pretty red dress. Phil grinned back at her good naturedly and mouthed ‘good luck’ before he carried the paper cups back to the table and set them down.

“What are you working on there?” He took the seat across from Clint and tilted his head to try and get a better look.

“Tiptoe. He’s havin’ a tea party.” The little boy continued to colour as he spoke.

“I see.” The words remained light but Phil’s brow crinkled as he studied the picture. The rabbit, Tiptoe, sat alone at the table in front of a large cake. Was that how Clint felt? All alone? “Does Tiptoe have any friends coming to the party?”

“Nope. He doesn’t need any friends ‘cause he has me.” Clint’s head was still bent low over the picture as he put the finishing touches to the napkin tied around Tiptoe’s neck.

“That’s a real work of art,” Phil announced when the masterpiece was complete.

Clint beamed at the praise, feeling a little bolder all of a sudden. “It’s for you.” He timidly handed Phil the picture.

“Thank you, Clint.” Phil was genuinely touched by the gesture. It had been a long time since he had been given a drawing and he would treasure it. “This is going straight on the refrigerator when I get home,” he promised as he folded the picture up carefully, tucking it in the inside pocket of his suit jacket.

“Really? Cool.” Clint’s eyes lit up. He couldn’t recall ever having had one of his pictures displayed on the refrigerator before and it was nice to think that maybe it would remind Phil of him.

Clint’s smile was infectious and, once again, the boy had quite unknowingly tugged at Phil’s heartstrings. It had taken so little to put that beautiful smile on Clint’s face and, work be damned, Phil really wanted to see Clint again soon.  He was getting ahead of himself though. Clint might not want to see him again, or he might feel obligated to say yes to Phil because he wanted to see Tasha again. Then there was the question of whether or not Clint had a mommy or daddy who would understandably be wary of trusting a complete stranger with their little boy. Judging by the way Clint had reacted to the praise of his picture though, Phil assumed that Clint didn’t currently have a caretaker.

He cleared his throat, _Here goes nothing_. “Clint, I’d like to ask you something but I don’t need an answer right away, okay?  If there’s somebody you have to check with then I can wait as long as you need or if the answer is no then there’s no pressure whatsoever.”

Clint took a sip of his juice and set the cup down slowly before he nodded his understanding. Was Phil going to ask him something creepy? He didn’t seem creepy but then again, creepy people rarely did seem creepy, or at least the really creepy ones didn’t and he’d met plenty of those.

“Would you like to go for ice cream on Saturday, just you and me?”

The look on Phil’s face was so utterly serious that Clint had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing. Of course he wanted to go, he didn’t have to think about it and he had nobody to ask. “I’d like that,” he replied with a grin. He must have smiled more in the last few minutes than he had in a week.

“Great.” Phil’s own smile tugged at the corner of his lips but he managed to keep it under wraps for the most part for fear of seeming too keen and scaring Clint off. He wrote his phone number on a blank sheet of paper and passed it across the table. “So I’ll see you at The Creamery about…11?”

Clint nodded, his cheeks starting to ache from all the smiling and placed the phone number in his left pocket. The function room seemed much emptier now than when he’d arrived and he realised that things were obviously winding up, so he picked Tiptoe up and put him back in his designated pocket. “I’ll see you Saturday.”

“Take care,” Phil told him warmly.

Clint felt light as a feather as he headed for the door. He’d met two really cool people which was better than he’d dared hope for when he’d walked in and Phil in particular seemed… special.  

“Clint!” A voice called from across the room.

It was Tasha, she was standing between a brunette lady and a girl in a plaid dress.

 _Call me_ , she mouthed.

He looked at her in confusion for a moment because how could he call her when he didn’t have her number?

 **** _Pocket,_ she mouthed back, pointing to his right hand side.

Sure enough, in his right pocket (underneath Tiptoe) was a piece of paper with a phone number on it written in purple sparkly crayon. He looked back at her in surprise. It had been a little chilly in there, or maybe it’d just been nerves, but either way, he hadn’t taken his jacket off so he had no idea how she’d snuck it in there without him noticing. She winked at him and grinned. He shook his head in disbelief and grinned back at her. He didn’t think he’d be needing to hide out in his blanket fort this afternoon after all.

**Author's Note:**

> *In case anyone is unsure, a littles munch is where a group of individuals with a shared interest in age play meet to eat and chat etc.


End file.
